"And to be wroth with one we love doth work like madness in the brain."
—Christabel.
—Christabel.
Is this time for estrangement, O my friend!
When all the air is filled with angry cries,
And one great wrong, of which we see no end,
Bids us bind closer all our olden ties;
Should it not rather be that a true love
Should burn but steadier in this night of war;
That when the earth reels, and we look above,
We may behold at last one faithful star;
See—I will kneel to thee, beseeching thee,
By all held dear by thee, refuse me not;
Are those hours nought, that were so much to me?
Or, with their flight, have they been quite forgot?
I will not let thee go, except thou say,
Smiling still kindly on my sore distress,
"The cloud has gone that shadow'd yesterday,
And with it all the doubts that did distress."
So shall thy words dispel this bitter pain,
And I be folded to thy breast again.
When all the air is filled with angry cries,
And one great wrong, of which we see no end,
Bids us bind closer all our olden ties;
Should it not rather be that a true love
Should burn but steadier in this night of war;
That when the earth reels, and we look above,
We may behold at last one faithful star;
See—I will kneel to thee, beseeching thee,
By all held dear by thee, refuse me not;
Are those hours nought, that were so much to me?
Or, with their flight, have they been quite forgot?
I will not let thee go, except thou say,
Smiling still kindly on my sore distress,
"The cloud has gone that shadow'd yesterday,
And with it all the doubts that did distress."
So shall thy words dispel this bitter pain,
And I be folded to thy breast again.